


Nothing broken beyond repair (the Kintsugi remix)

by Akemichan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Japanese Culture, Japanese Keith (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), M/M, POV Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24768400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akemichan/pseuds/Akemichan
Summary: Kintsugi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold; as a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguiseBut people aren't pottery, Keith thinks. They can't be repaired.But they can become something else.For the Sheith Remix!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	Nothing broken beyond repair (the Kintsugi remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonseul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonseul/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the wanting comes in waves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723030) by [moonseul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonseul/pseuds/moonseul). 



> My partner for the Remix was moonseul and I got immediately caught by the story about kintsugi, so here I am!
> 
> I did try to replicate a little the style of the story, but I also added a lot for the remix: different ending + soulmate!AU + POV change - yeah, I may have got too far, but that's how much the story inspired me!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!

The Soulmates Countdown is a pain in the ass, Keith thinks.

There was a time in his life when he was like everyone else, looking at the numbers on his right wrist and thinking that it wasn’t running fast enough. A time he could remember his parents’ story about their meeting with happiness instead of sadness.

Now, the slow ticking of the seconds unnerves him.

Two minutes, says the Soulmates Countdown. In two minutes, Keith is going to meet his soulmate, the person destined for him. Everything that Keith wants is to ends his work shift fast, returning back to his small apartment and sleep into the oblivious.

“Kogane-san,” his boss calls, startling him. “Bring a _Sapporo_ draft beer to the client at table five.”

“Yes, sir.”

With the surprise of nobody, his soulmate is one of the clients. He takes a bottle and a glass mug as the order says and, with a sigh, he walks towards the table.

One minute.

He takes every step with calm, enjoys his time to look at his Soulmate before meeting him.

It seems he’s lucky. Despite the oddity of the white tuff of hair, the scar across his nose and the fact he’s wearing a jacket in the hot air of _Miyagi_ , the man at the table is gorgeous: tall and broad, with a square perfect jaws and dark, big lips.

Their eyes meet for a second: Keith can notice the grey color, and their sadness, before he’s invested by the tickling sensation of good expectation, the feeling something great is about to happen. Suddenly, the world seems brighter, louder.

The Soulmate Countdown has ended.

“Your drink, sir,” Keith manages to say, as he places the bottle and the mud on the wooden table.

The man adjusts better the right sleeve of his jacket, and that’s the moment Keith notices it.

The prosthetic.

Because of the jacket, Keith can’t see how far the prosthetic goes, but it’s not far-fetched saying that it definitely surpasses the wrist, where the Soulmate Countdown is supposed to be.

Keith’s Soulmate doesn’t know that they just met, and he seems more interested in the football match on the TV screen than Keith himself.

Disappointment and relief fall upon Keith, as he hides his right arm behind his back. He returns to the counter, ignores the frowned gaze of his boss and reaches the bathroom. He washes his face and looks at the mirror.

Nothing has changed, and he’s free from the uneased feeling of expectation from the countdown.

After all, that man was a client, and he looked like a tourist too.

Meeting him again will be unlikely.

Instead, the man is back the next night, in the same table, with the same order.

Keith finds himself lured again by his presence, not because he’s his soulmate, but because of the strange aura he emanates. Like a wave of sadness, like something is broken inside him. Keith feels like they are similar in that regard. Well, Keith says to himself, maybe it’s what soulmates are.

“You didn’t seem to like the beer very much yesterday. A cup of iced water to force it down.”

If the man is creeped out by the fact Keith noticed his antics the evening before, he doesn’t show it. He seems embarrassed, mostly, as he coughs out a thanks.

“Hey, it does its job. As long as you get over the rancid taste.”

He leaves with a last smile. Despite working as a waiter, Keith isn’t good with people. Clients in his _Izakaya_ aren’t picky about him – him bringing them drink is enough for them. It’s not a habit of Keith having conversations with them, let aside remembering something to be kind to them next time.

That man – his Soulmate – is dangerous.

And easy to talk to.

The more Keith thinks about it, the more he realizes he actually wants to keep talking to him. He isn’t a curious person by nature – everyone has his secret, and the right to not be pestered about him – but there is a pull towards the man he decides not to fight.

The man doesn’t know they’re soulmates. Until Keith doesn’t tell him, he’ll still have a way out.

That’s why he accepts to prepare _Onigiri_ for him when the man reaches the _Izakaya_ in the morning instead of his usual evening time. That’s why he introduces himself to him, and now he has a name for his Soulmate too – Takashi Shirogane, Shiro in short, after a long time spending in America. That’s why he jokes with Shiro about the _Onigiri_ and how they are cheap made, and that’s why he makes conversation with him, asking him things Shiro doesn’t really answer.

His mother used to joke about Keith being very blunt, yet with Shiro he finds an unusual sweetness. Shiro doesn’t talk much about himself, and Keith doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need it to understand Shiro is facing some personal demons, whatever they may be.

Keith guesses the prosthetic has something to do with it, in the careful way Shiro still tries to hide it from the gaze. Keith doesn’t ask, and Shiro doesn’t press about Keith’s personal life either.

Their conversations are mostly casual, mundane even, but they’re genuine, and Keith finds himself looking forward them more and more.

He learns Shiro is a huge nerd, with a passion for occidental stories like Star Trek, but he also can sing by memory Neo Genesis Evangelion opening sequence. He isn’t good a cooking and his favorite food is mac and cheese. He never watches Lord of the Rings movies because “it won’t ever be as good as the book”. His family comes from Hokkaido, but he lives for four years in America.

In exchange, Keith tells him about his voluntary job at the local shelter – he hasn’t able to adopt a dog for himself yet – about the fact he used to surf, about his favorite quiet park in Miyagi. He even shows him some of the drawings he does in the free time.

Keith didn’t expect to lead Shiro inside his life more than that, but Shiro was there, and became a constant presence in his life that inviting him over was something Keith does without even thinking. Shiro arrives at the _Izakaya_ later than usual, and twice in a day, in a moment Keith doesn’t expect him anymore.

That’s probably the reason Keith doesn’t miss his chance.

“If you’re not busy later… We should hang out.”

Shiro doesn’t expect it, clearly. He still says yes.

Keith’s apartment isn’t made for guests. It’s just a one-room apartment, with a couch slash futon, a small kitchenette and a table Keith uses for everything else. But it’s his, something he earns with his work and his money, something he can call home without feeling a sour taste in his mouth.

There is an easiness in the way Shiro makes his way inside too – he doesn’t look like the man who waited until Keith’s ended his shift at almost two o’clock in the morning. A small smile lingers in his lips as he looks around.

“Would you like some tea?”

Since Shiro nods and takes place on the red cushion at the round table, Keith takes the kettle and starts boiling the water. The room gets filled only by the water’s gurgle and by their breaths. It’s relaxing, Keith finds out, as he prepares the two cups of tea.

He places the cup with the hot tea in front of Shiro, who blinks. Keith takes his spot on the other side of the table, and blows on the tea to cool it down. Shiro hasn’t picked up his cup yet, too focused on the gold lines that keep aside the broken orange cup.

“It’s…” Shiro starts.

“Kintsugi,” Keith confirms, the Japanese art to repay object with gold. “That’s what they do. Broken things, while broken, still retain their value. There’s no way to erase the cracks, and I-” he pauses, and turns his eyes away from Shiro, scared of revealed too much, “ _one_ has to live with it. Accept it.”

It’s to be expected that Shiro is surprised by it – Kintsugi is an old art not used anymore for domestic objects, and it’s easy to say that the cup isn’t worthy of the gold used to repay it. Most people would have just bought another set of cups. But Keith isn’t most people, and these cups weren’t ordinary either.

“There must be very important cups for you,” Shiro says. The tone suggests he doesn’t want an answer, and Keith isn’t ready to give him one, not yet.

But it doesn’t take long for Keith to decide otherwise. They’re spending the rest of the night drinking tea, without even talking to each other. Shiro’s presence has become cumbersome in his life, in the good way that Keith is ready to accept Shiro knowing everything about him.

“They belonged to my father’s favorite tea set. He used it every day.”

Shiro remains silent, letting Keith deciding how much he’d like to share. In his eyes, there is a hint of compassion and understanding, a silent encouraging for Keith that, whatever he may say, Shiro will be on his side.

“I evacuated onto higher ground with my high school when the tsunami swept over Natori,” Keith says then, his eyes already wet. He lowers them, focused on the cup on his hand, but he can hear Shiro’s little gasp. “My father was a policeman. My mom, an elementary school teacher. She, along with her students, was carried along the currents as they tried to cross a bridge.”

Keith doesn’t receive any pity, not any “I’m sorry” like he heard too much in the day back then.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Shiro says at the end, and it’s everything Keith needs to.

“You looked like the type to understand loss.” Keith defuses the tears in his eyes with a small laugh.

Shiro’s lips form a small, sad smile, but he just sips tea from his cup, with an incredible delicateness. “I have to apologize,” he says then.

“I told you because I wanted to,” Keith points out.

“I know. It’s just…” Shiro hesitates. “I thought your loss was about your Soulmate.”

Keith has almost forgotten about it. His wrist aches a little and without thinking he turns it to hide the Soulmate Countdown. Talking and staying with Shiro is so nice, and so easy, he starts to think it isn’t everything because of that.

“No, it’s…” Keith takes a deep breath. “You are my Soulmate. The Countdown reached zero the time I served you your first _Sapporo_.”

“Oh.”

Shiro’s eyes widen just a little, but the most visible reaction is the way he grips his prosthetic. Then, he takes back the cup and empties it.

“Can I have another one?”

It’s ten o’clock in the morning when Shiro rings at his apartment. Keith notices immediately two oddities: the first is that Shiro left the same apartment around five the same morning. Keith has the habit to sleep only until nine o’clock, so he’s up, but they said goodbyes only five hours prior, yet Shiro is there.

The second thing is that it’s raining, and Shiro is covering himself with his own jacket: the first time he bares entirely his prosthetic and the t-shirt is wearing shows that it goes almost until his right shoulder.

“Sorry,” Shiro says, with a little, soft smile.

“Would you like breakfast?” Keith manages to say. Then, he adds with a smirk, “and dry clothes maybe?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Once he gave Shiro a couple of old clothes that should be big enough for him and pointed him the bathroom, Keith cooks up eggs and rice. He already had breakfast, so he does it for Shiro too. His focus is still on the kitchenette when Shiro’s voice calls him.

“I was supposed to be a pilot,” he says, as he sits down at the round table, confident as it was his own house. “They obviously won’t let me back into a plane now, so I’d best figure out a new career path,” he adds, with a sad smile.

“Do you come here this early just to tell me this?” Keith asks, with no taunt in his voice, just honest surprise.

Shiro nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to anyone about myself since the accident.”

“Thank you for trusting me.” He doesn’t comment further, not until he places the plates with the breakfast in front of Shiro. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”

“Why should I be?” Shiro stops the stick midair.

“Because I haven’t told you early about the all Soulmate thing.”

Shiro swallows his breakfast. “No, I… got it. I’m quite the predicament, and it’s entirely understandable you didn’t want to weight me with that too.”

“And I also think I wouldn’t have seen you again,” Keith confesses.

“Looks like things always go different from what we expect.” Shiro has a bittersweet smile as his eyes feel on the orange and golden cups in the sink. “Without my accident, I doubt I would have found myself here in Miyagi to drink. And I wouldn’t have chosen Miyagi either if it wasn’t for the fact that the tsunami destroyed it… The same tsunami that took your parents from you.”

“What are you meaning with this?”

“Soulmates or not… our own tragedies were what brought us together.” He looks straight into Keith’s eyes, and Keith understands.

“We aren’t objects. We can’t be repaired, not even with gold,” he says immediately, with a harshness he doesn’t expect. “I didn’t… come to you because of it. I’m not trying to fix you,” he states. “And don’t try to fix me either.”

“I won’t,” Shiro assures him, while his breakfast cools down, mostly untouched. “I don’t think that what it happened to us can ever be amended… but since I met you, I’ve started thinking there may be something better waiting for us. And no, don’t even try to pin it to the all Soulmate thing, because I didn’t know… five hours ago.”

“I don’t want to believe it either.” Keith’s eyes itch, and he closes his eyelids to shield himself. His throat is dried. “You’re a tourist.”

“I’m a broken man, just like you,” Shiro replies. “Do you want me to stay? Here in Miyagi.”

“I can’t ask you-”

“Do you want me to?” Shiro repeats.

Keith swallows, the happiness he has felt in all the days he spent chatting with Shiro flows inside him at once. It swims through him, revealing the secret desire that Shiro can be more than just another small tragedy in his life, a passing joy Keith would have remembering with sadness in a couple of months.

“Yes.”

_Yes yes yesyesyes-_

Shiro’s lips are on his own before Keith has the time to register it, and they taste of cooked egg, soft and warm. Everything fells to place, like the gold in the cup’s cracks. It can’t be so easy, Keith thinks, but it embraces the feeling nevertheless, arms around Shiro’s torso.

“Then I’ll stay.”


End file.
